


An Unbreakable Bond

by BenAddictViolaBatch



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Consent, Masturbation, Sex Toys, sentient object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenAddictViolaBatch/pseuds/BenAddictViolaBatch
Summary: I never intended to write a StrangeCloak fic, but it seems my Muse had other plans. She wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote this.What can I say?  Sometimes a man develops an unbreakable bond with a sentient object. Sometimes that bond gets sexy.Enjoy -





	An Unbreakable Bond

Stephen flipped his pillow to the cool side, giving it a jab with his elbow for good measure. He flopped down onto his back, careful to let his hands come down gently to rest at his sides.

It was no use. He was never going to get to sleep in this state. His overheated body hummed with frustration. Still, he stubbornly squirmed against the sheets for a few minutes before he gave in, growling in annoyance and sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

Stephen had always had above average sexual appetites. For years he had enjoyed a game of seduction and negotiation, his looks and his money ensuring that he had no shortage of willing partners.

The game had come to an abrupt halt the night his car skidded off the road and crushed him. Pain, both physical and emotional, dampened his desire almost completely. His sex life was just one more loss to grieve, and he added it to the pile along with his career, his money, his home, and his self-respect.

It was habit more than anything that had prompted him to flirt with the students (and the masters) of Kamar-Taj when he first arrived. But, as his strength began to return, his confidence followed. His libido wasn’t far behind. Privacy was difficult to come by, but he began to explore the compound, locating hidden corners and interesting partners. Although the pain and weakness in his hands still held him back to some extent, he was more than skillful enough with his mouth and his cock to keep his partners satisfied.

That, too, had stopped cold when the London explosion had blown Stephen through the door to the New York Sanctum and into the overwhelming responsibility of becoming its new Master. Out of pure necessity, he’d spent every waking moment (and a good many of his sleeping moments) of the last several months reading, practicing, and consulting with the other Masters. The more he learned, the more he realized just how much he _still_ didn’t know. It left him completely drained, and with no time or energy to pursue any type of recreation.

Stephen was no stranger to intensive study, having powered through two doctoral programs simultaneously, but at that time his body had been young and unbroken. He’d been easily able to keep his “work hard/play hard” philosophy going when he was in his twenties. These days, Stephen was carrying the weight of the world. He collapsed into his bed alone when he could, unable to dig up the motivation to search for a lover. Even random Tinder encounters seemed daunting at this point. It’s not like he could bring a stranger to the Sanctum, anyway.

He reached into his bedside drawer. A combination of shame and relief coursed through him as he retrieved the fleshlight and the bottle of lube from underneath a collection of books. A couple of weeks after arriving at the Sanctum, Stephen had slipped out to a nearby sex shop, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible under an old hoodie as he purchased his supplies.

It was his hands. He couldn’t get himself off without a toy because of his fucking hands. He’d tried, again and again, but he simply couldn’t do it. The pain shut him down.

Of course, Stephen was no stranger to the use of pain to intensify pleasure. He’d enjoyed a full range, from a woman’s fingernails digging into his upper arms or raking down his back to the the ache in his jaw as he pleasured a partner with his mouth. He’d loved the feel of rope or cuffs around his wrists and the strain on his shoulders when his hands were bound behind his back or above his head. A hand gripping his hair tightly, or a man’s stubble scraping his neck - or, better yet, the tender skin of his inner thighs - was glorious. But the stabbing, burning, cramping pain of his hands was profoundly different. It didn’t feed his pleasure; it just fucking hurt. When he tried to get off with his hands, he’d find himself gritting his teeth against the pain and unable to finish. In an hour or so, he’d be back at square one, cock hard and balls aching, desperate again for release.

He set his supplies on the bed and stood briefly to remove his midnight blue boxer briefs. Stephen had preferred to sleep nude his entire adult life. It was a simple pleasure he’d always allowed himself, but privacy was an illusion now. He could be called into action at any given moment, and he wasn’t keen on facing an inter-dimensional threat with his cock and balls on display. Once had been more than enough for that experience. He now reluctantly wore underwear to bed, but he’d be damned if he was going to get himself off any other way but nude.

As he prepared the toy, he pushed aside his shame. Becoming Master of the Sanctum was by definition a solitary calling. He had neither the time nor the opportunity to develop a relationship with anyone. His only steady companion was the Cloak of Levitation. Stephen always walked a little taller in its embrace. He’d long ago lost count of the times it had saved his life. When it wrapped itself around his shoulders, he felt stronger than he ever had, even before the crash. The Cloak could read his intentions impeccably, and Stephen had learned quite a bit about understanding the Cloak’s moods and gestures.

The battle with Dormammu had been an unimaginable and seemingly endless ordeal. He knew he could never have persevered without the Cloak. They had gone through hell together, and the experience had forged an unbreakable bond between them. The Cloak was his closest friend and constant companion.

Stephen startled hard when he heard the rustle of fabric at his bedroom door handle.

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!” He scrambled to pull the sheet over his erection and shoved the now-wet fleshlight behind his back. The Cloak glided through the door, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

Stephen could feel heat rushing to his face and neck and spreading down his bare chest. He’d been thinking of the Cloak. And it had _heard him_.

“Um, yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking. I didn’t mean to summon you.” His eyes were cast down, and he could see only the Cloak’s hemline. It rippled at him. “You can - you can go back to resting, or whatever it was you were doing. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Stephen still couldn’t bring himself to look at it directly.

The Cloak moved forward deliberately, grasping his upper arm - the one he’d twisted behind his back to hide the toy. It pulled on his arm, and Stephen started to panic.

“I’m fine! Really! I wasn’t trying to summon y-“

The edge of the Cloak fell lightly against his lips, stopping his protests. It pulled on his arm again, and Stephen yielded. He had learned months ago that he was no match for the Cloak when it wanted something.

“Oh, God, this is mortifying,” he muttered as he let the Cloak pull his arm forward, revealing the fleshlight. “I don’t suppose you know what this is.”

The Cloak ruffled up in indignation.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure it’s not exactly a big leap for you to figure out what it’s for.” He stared down at it dejectedly.

The Cloak wrapped around the handle and pulled.

Stephen released the toy with a groan. “Oh, God, don’t take it away. I am _excruciatingly_ aware of how this looks, but the thing is,” he said quietly, lifting his damaged, quaking hands, “I need it.”

The Cloak brushed Stephen’s hair back from his forehead with so much tenderness that hot tears pricked at the corners of Stephen’s eyes. It had been far too long since anyone had touched him as lovingly as the Cloak did. Without thinking, Stephen leaned into the touch and nestled his head into the Cloak’s collar. His hands came up and curled gently around it.

After another stroke to Stephen’s head, the Cloak took hold of the sheet Stephen had hastily thrown over his lap to preserve a modicum of his modesty.

Stephen’s panic returned. “What are you doing?” He scrambled to grip the sheet and keep it over him.

The Cloak released the sheet and continued to stroke Stephen’s hair. It moved to envelop Stephen from behind, gently stroking his shoulders and back. Stephen shuddered involuntarily at the feel of the Cloak’s soft lining on his bare skin. Despite himself, he fell back into the Cloak’s embrace, barely suppressing a moan.

The sheet fell away as Stephen relaxed his grip and he was lifted from the bed. He realized with a mild shock that he was floating, nude and supine, on the Cloak. He was having trouble thinking clearly as the Cloak caressed his body in long, sweeping strokes and brought the fleshlight directly in front of his rapidly re-hardening cock.

The Cloak paused, seeking permission. Stephen grabbed a handful of fabric. “Wait.”

The stroking stopped as the Cloak went almost still.

“Are you sure about this?”

The Cloak gave him a distinctly affirmative squeeze.

“You don’t feel - _obligated_ , do you?”

It rippled indignantly.

“Okay, okay!” He rubbed the fabric soothingly. “I had to be sure.”

It stroked his arm affectionately.

“Will you regret this in the morning?” He asked, his hand still passing slowly over the fabric. Then, almost inaudibly, “Will I?”

In response, the Cloak cradled his head tenderly and petted his hair. It slowly resumed its caresses over Stephen’s whole body.

Stephen gave himself over, relaxing into the Cloak and nuzzling its collar with his cheek. A sigh of pleasure escaped him. It felt like several pairs of hands were passing over his still-sensitized skin, gripping his arms, stroking his back, and squeezing his ass with the enthusiasm of an entity finally doing something it had been wanting to do for months.

The textured edges of the Cloak were a beautiful contrast to the silky fabric of the lining. They passed over his nipples, sending sparks of pleasure directly to his cock. He whimpered. The grip on his forearms tightened in response. Stephen arched his back, pulling against the restraint to ramp up his own pleasure. The Cloak brought the toy into contact with the tip of his cock.

Stephen grasped at the fabric with both hands. “I should warn you,” he said breathlessly, “This will be over embarrassingly quickly.”

The Cloak brushed his hair back from his forehead.

Stephen took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do it.”

The Cloak pushed the toy forward to envelop the head of Stephen’s cock. His whole body convulsed with pleasure, and a guttural moan escaped him. It pulled the toy back and pushed forward again to sheath him to the root.

“Oh!” Stephen shouted, throwing his head back. The Cloak worked him steadily, and Stephen rolled his hips to meet the Cloak’s rhythm. “Yes, yes, so good!”

It wasn’t long before he was shuddering and gasping. He cried out loudly and wordlessly as he came harder than he had in ages.

As he slowly came back to himself, the Cloak was settling him into bed on his side. It draped itself over him softly. Stephen, still breathing heavily, curled his fingers around the fabric.

“What about you?” he asked quietly.

The Cloak gave him a little squeeze, pressing him into the sheets.

He gathered part of the Cloak into his arms. “No, really, what can I do for you?”

The Cloak simply gave him another press into the sheets and stroked his hair.

Stephen accepted the Cloak’s answer, at least for now. He relaxed into its embrace and closed his eyes. His breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal, and he drifted toward sleep.

After several minutes had passed, he roused himself, sitting up and moving the Cloak to his side. He soothed it with a caress and went to the bathroom to clean up, taking the toy with him.

When he returned to the bedroom, the Cloak was floating near the door to the hallway, looking uncharacteristically awkward.

Stephen reached out. “Stay with me?”

It responded immediately, following him into bed. It arranged itself over Stephen, conforming to the curves and angles of his body with gentle strokes as it fell into place. It plucked at the midnight blue underwear Stephen had put back on with mild annoyance.

Stephen smiled indulgently. “I know, but I’d rather not repeat what happened when I had to confront Umar last month.”

The Cloak twitched, then began to quake uncontrollably.

“Are you laughing at me?”

The Cloak’s spasms got bigger.

“Oh, hush.”

Stephen settled himself, making a series of small adjustments until he was comfortable. The Cloak calmed itself as Stephen relaxed in its embrace, and Stephen dropped off to sleep almost immediately.

When he opened his eyes several hours later, a beam of sunlight was falling over the bed and playing up the deep scarlet color of the Cloak.

It took Stephen a moment to realize what he was feeling. He could identify feeling warm and relaxed, but there was something else. Something he hadn’t felt in some time. Finally, it hit him: he felt safe.

He’d slept deeply under his Cloak’s protection, his dreams pleasantly formless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well. His cock had grown thick and heavy again with renewed desire, but he ignored it.

His hand curled lightly into the thick fabric of his Cloak. He tenderly stroked it with his thumb and nuzzled his head against its collar. Now that he knew what it felt like to sleep in its embrace, he was suddenly more than a little terrified it would never let him do this again.

He did his best to keep his tone light. “It’s morning. Any regrets?”

The Cloak gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Stephen’s anxiety fell away. Then it was holding its edge up near his face.

“One? You have one regret?” Stephen’s anxiety returned with renewed strength.

It plucked disdainfully at Stephen’s boxer briefs.

Stephen chuckled in relief. “Right.” He relaxed into the bed again.

The Cloak was focused on him, nervous energy suddenly coming off it in waves.

He gathered an armful of fabric against his chest. “I don’t regret this,” he said gently.

It practically melted in his arms.

“I want this to continue, and there are some things we need to negotiate. First, I want to know what you need. It’s a point of pride for me that I never leave a partner unsatisfied, and I don’t know enough about what you like.”

Another tug at the offending underwear.

He laughed. “I know, I know.” He sat up, careful not to pinch the Cloak. “How about you give me a minute in the bathroom to freshen up, and we’ll start by losing these?” He gave the waistband a little tweak.

He found himself scooped up and hustled to the bathroom doorway. As his feet touched the floor, he stroked the Cloak gently. He already had a mental list of toys he’d seen at the shop around the corner and several ideas for how to put them to use, but first things first. He would spend the morning learning how to make his Cloak lose its everloving mind.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. 
> 
> Positive and/or constructive comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> I now return to our regularly scheduled Johnlock programming. 
> 
> Thank you, and goodnight! ❤️


End file.
